


Penance

by brookebond



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Awkwardness, Friendship, Inappropriate Jokes, M/M, Pre-Relationship, in a church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Eames isn't a religious man. Or at least Arthur didn't think he was...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is very, very loosely based off a disastrous personal experience of my one and only time in a church service.  
> It also very quickly turned into something I wasn't expecting.  
> I apologise for any mistakes, this hasn't been edited. I just wanted to get it up before the end of the year.

It wasn’t as though Arthur had never set foot in a church before. He just never expected to be inside one ever again, let alone with Eames. Arthur's eyes flit over to Eames who appears to be earnestly focused on the minister. Flicking his attention back to the sermon, wondering what could be so fascinating.

_ “You can watch the transition. You go from a 6th-grade boy who doesn’t care that he stinks to a 7th and 8th-grade boy who is covering their stink with cologne on into showering. That transition happens because of the day of epiphany. ‘I want one of those.’ Next thing you know, we’re all watching Jennifer Aniston movies, and it’s not because she wins Academy Awards.” _

The snort that escapes Arthur draws Eames’ attention, a small chuckle tugging at his lips. It quickly silences Arthur but he can’t stop his own small grin. He opens his mouth to comment but Eames shakes his head minutely before returning his attention to the minister. Arthur huffs out a breath and settles back into the uncomfortable pew, wishing for the first time to be back in the church back home. They at least had cushioned pews.

Thinking of home makes Arthur’s chest constrict. It’s been a long time since he let himself think of it as home, let alone think of it with any sort of fondness. His brows draw together as he crosses his arms and focuses on the minister in a vain attempt to not let his mind wander.

_ “Guilt and shame is different from conviction. Conviction says, ‘I’ve sinned against a Holy God who loves me and has made a way to make myself right before him,’ and runs to God. Guilt and shame says, ‘I’ve gone too far. God can’t love me,’ and runs from God.” _

“Pretty sure you can’t outrun someone that can see everything,” Arthur mutters. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur can see Eames looking at him. There’s something about the looks Eames is giving him that makes Arthur turns his head, raising his brows in question. Eames only smirks, just a little, before turning forward. Arthur lets his gaze linger a little this time. His eyes wandering over the stubble lining Eames’ jaw. A sudden urge to drag his teeth along Eames’ jaw pulses through him. Forcing his gaze forward, Arthur’s hands close into fists as he attempts to flush the unbidden thought from his mind.

_ "Like you submit to Jesus, submit to your husband. I don’t know that it gets any stronger than that. ‘Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Saviour.’” _

“Submit on your knees, more like,” Arthur mumbles, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. As he shifts, Arthur can feel Eames’ eyes on him and peers over at him. There’s no smirk this time, only a crinkle of his eyes. Arthur licks his lips, looking away first this time. He leaves his gaze on his hands, clasping them together until his knuckles turn white.

It was a mistake to come to church. Arthur can feel it gnawing away at him. Listening to sermons as a teenager was one thing. He had to keep his mouth shut, had to listen to the teachings. His father was the minister. But now… now Arthur wonders how he can get out of here without making a huge commotion.

Arthur leans back in the pew, letting his hands rest in his lap, still clasped tightly together. His eyes roam the church, grateful that Eames chose a pew only a few rows from the doors. But Arthur can’t see any easy way out of the church. Eames is on the outside of him and the rest of the pew is full. Without asking Eames to move, there’s no way out.

A small groan escapes Arthur’s lips as his head falls back. He closes his eyes and tries to block out the sermon still going on, but it’s fruitless. If anything, it sounds as though the minister is getting louder and Arthur briefly wonders if this is some sort of punishment.

_ “Our language doesn’t do justice to what God calls a man and woman to be to one another. Because all we’ve got in ‘love’. And ‘love’ means a billion different things. It’s everything from a feeling that we get to a devotion to something.” _

“I really love tacos,” Arthur whispers as he sits up. As he cracks his neck, Arthur catches Eames looking at him again. Still, there’s no playful smile and the crinkle of his eyes is gone. Something in the look Eames is giving him makes Arthur sit up a little straighter and tries to focus on the sermon.

It’s useless, though. The sermon is unoriginal, boring, and leaves Arthur with a lot to be desired. For a change, Arthur lets himself think back to all the sermons he had to sit through as a child, trying to remember if his father ever covered this. If he did, Arthur must have forgotten. It’s not as though he was ever going to have to worry about a wife obeying him. Ma _ ybe I’d do the obeying _ , Arthur thinks, glancing at Eames before he can stop himself. Though, if he allowed himself to really think about it, Arthur wonders if he would mind obeying Eames.Arthur snaps his attention forward as Eames turns to him like Arthur’s thoughts had drawn his attention. Heat flushes through him, his cheeks burning as he tries to figure out if he had spoken his thought aloud.

Arthur snaps his attention forward as Eames turns to him like Arthur’s thoughts had drawn his attention. Heat flushes through him, his cheeks burning as he tries to figure out if he had spoken his thought aloud.

_ “The first thing I would ask you to do is love your husband by respecting him. Nothing is more important to a man than respect. If a man gets angry or a man pouts or a man pouts angrily, nine times out of ten, it’s because he feels disrespected.” _

“I can think of better uses for his mouth,” Arthur mutters. A small smirk getting the better of him before he feels Eames’ eyes on him again. Peeking at Eames, Arthur’s smirk drops. Irritation is written all over him and Arthur is pretty sure it’s his fault. He lifts his head to properly look at Eames and apologise but Eames dodges his gaze, looking to the front before quickly getting out an “Amen” and hurrying out of the pew before anyone else is even out of their seats.

There’s a tug deep in his gut as he watches Eames get swallowed by the crowd.  _ What the fuck was that?  _ Arthur runs his fingers through his hair, catching it briefly at the back of his head. He drags a hand down his face before slapping himself once. The sting in his cheeks draws him back to himself and Arthur finally realises that he’s alone in the church. The overwhelming crowd from earlier has dissipated.

Arthur sits in the pew so long he has to be asked to leave by the minister. He flashes a smile and apologises quickly as he makes his way out of the church, his thoughts chasing after him. Guilt settles heavily in his gut as he walks away from the church. Arthur lets his feet carry him as he gets lost in his thoughts. But there’s only one thing on his mind, and his feet carry him to that thing.

Standing outside Eames’ hotel door, Arthur hesitates, his hand hovering in a fist just in front of the door. Knowing he needs to apologise is what brought him here, but Arthur second guesses himself. Eames probably doesn’t even want to see him.  _ It’s probably too soon _ . Arthur drops his hand and turns from the door, taking a few steps down the hall before pausing. He could be in this hall all night second guessing himself. Shaking his head to clear his doubts, Arthur turns back to Eames’ room. He’s going to make this right.“Eames?” Arthur calls as he knocks on the door. He strains to hear any sign of life on the other side of the door. The soft sounds of shuffling raise his hopes a little but the door doesn’t open. Arthur knocks again, two brief raps but doesn’t call out. The shuffling gets louder as Eames obviously gets closer to the door, but still, it doesn’t open. “I can hear you, you know.” Arthur stupidly calls out, instantly putting a stop to the shuffling. He curses under his breath and turns around, leaning back against the door. “It would be easier if you let me in.”

“Eames?” Arthur calls as he knocks on the door. He strains to hear any sign of life on the other side of the door. The soft sounds of shuffling raise his hopes a little but the door doesn’t open. Arthur knocks again, two brief raps but doesn’t call out. The shuffling gets louder as Eames obviously gets closer to the door, but still, it doesn’t open. “I can hear you, you know.” Arthur stupidly calls out, instantly putting a stop to the shuffling. He curses under his breath and turns around, leaning back against the door. “It would be easier if you let me in.”

“It would be  _ easier  _  if you just went away.”

A smile tugs at Arthur’s lips. Maybe Eames isn’t completely pissed at him. “Can you open the door?” Arthur can hear more shuffling, but it sounds more like clothes ruffling that feet moving. “Or I can keep talking to the door,” he sighs, sliding down the door to sit on the floor. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry for ruining that service for you. I just… I can’t help myself sometimes.” Arthur rests his head against the door, closing his eyes as he speaks. “Did you know I used to go to church all the time? Every Sunday, like clockwork. My father’s a minister. He was so passionate when he spoke. You could tell he loved it. I loved it. But -” Arthur huffs out a breath, trying to collect himself as he shares his past to a closed door he can’t even be sure Eames is still on the other side of. “But, then he found out.” Arthur can feel the unstable emotions bubbling up as he remembers the conversations that followed. The arguments that ensued over every little thing Arthur did. He can remember the looks as though his father was right there in that hall. “I’m not trying to distract you,” Arthur continues, trying to change the conversation to safer ground for himself. “I just - I thought I was being funny. I didn’t think I was being that loud. And - and I just wanna say sorry. Next time, I’ll let you go alone.”

In a flash, the door opens and Arthur is flailing as he falls and lands with a thud on his back.

“That’s one way to make an entrance.” Eames stands, holding the door open as Arthur scrambles to his feet.

“I didn’t think you’d…” Arthur fumbles.

“Neither did I.”

“I am sorry.”

“So you said.” Eames crosses his arms.

Arthur clears his throat. “Well... now that I’ve said it a few times, I’m gonna go.” Arthur flashes a sheepish smile and steps back into the hall and turns, trying not to walk away too fast.

“Coffee?”

Arthur pauses and turns to Eames who is now leaning against the door jamb looking dangerously attractive. “Coffee?”

Eames flashes a grin. “It’s a drink, Arthur.”

“I know,” Arthur bites back.

“I’m offering you some.”

Arthur swallows thickly. A drink, inside Eames’ hotel room. Alone. Arthur nods before his thoughts have caught up to his body. Before he can chicken out, Arthur walks into the room followed by a click of the door locking.

**Author's Note:**

> It was a very quick end of the year resolution to just go for it and put a piece of writing up.  
> So, thank you for bearing with my first piece of writing.  
> Feedback is always appreciated.  
> The pieces of the sermon come from [The Village Church](http://thevillagechurch.net/resources/sermons/detail/authority-in-the-home/).


End file.
